42
Team-Tim: Hi, Al!
I was hoping to talk to Vadim, but it seems like the whole college has started hanging out on this messaging platform.
Team-Tim: Are you there?
Team-Tim: Al?
Could I just log off and leave without saying anything, like when you awkwardly cross the street to avoid someone you know after you’ve already caught each other’s eye?
Team-Tim: Well, either you’re there and ignoring me, so I look like an idiot right now… or you’re not there, and I’ll look like an idiot when you read this.
Honestly, how could he think such a narcissistic username was a good idea?
Team-Tim: Classes started again a week ago, and I haven’t seen you on campus once.
Probably because I’m avoiding you, Timothy…
Team-Tim: And for the past week, I’ve been thinking about that last night at camp…
Team-Tim: Actually, I can’t stop thinking about it.
Team-Tim: I’m sorry if I went about it the wrong way.
Team-Tim: I’d had a little too much to drink.
Is it really that hard to type everything you want to say at once and click “Send” just the one time?
Team-Tim: But that doesn’t change the fact that I meant everything I said.
Team-Tim: I miss you, Alma.
Team-Tim: I could behave better if you gave me a chance.
And there I was, thinking I’d been crystal clear about the total impossibility of anything happening between us ever again.
Team-Tim: It’s because it drives me crazy seeing you with him.
Team-Tim: I’m not myself these days.
Team-Tim: Even at basketball, I can’t do it anymore. My mind is somewhere else. I think about us a lot…
Team-Tim: Well, that’s all I wanted to say, so I’ll stop there.
Team-Tim: Let me know if you want to go grab a drink, say tomorrow night after class…
Team-Tim: I’m free.
Team-Tim: See ya, Al.
He signs off with the kissing emoji that has a heart on its lips… And I cringe.
I wait for him to log off before typing my reply. Not very brave on my part, maybe, but it’s not like I haven’t already tried talking to him face to face. At least this way, there will be a record of it.
Alma_from_paris: Hi, Timothy. I meant everything I said to you in Catalina, too.
I’d prefer it if we left it at that. I’m happy with Vadim, and I need you to respect my choice.
We can stay friends, if that’s possible for you.
If not, I completely understand. I’m sure you’ll meet a girl soon who will be much better for you than me. Take care.
I don’t know why I always have to end on a positive note. I’m incapable of being the bad guy, the one who disappoints or hurts people. I’ve spent so many years avoiding conflict and being terrified that someone might stop liking me.
I close my computer and flop backward onto my bed.
Staring at the ceiling of my room, I realize that I’m at a turning point.
Something has shifted this year. Before, the people around me barely knew I existed.
Now that Vadim is in my life, boys are interested in me.
I find myself having to compete with other girls—when that was the last thing I wanted to do—say no to Caleb and Tim despite being used to doing exactly what’s expected of me, and stand up to Cheyenne, when it goes against my very nature and character.
Life has a way of making you grow up by teaching you the weirdest lessons.
That day, on campus, Mr. Abrams corners me before I have a chance to run into Vadim.
“I hope you’re proud of yourself, Lancaster.”
“Excuse me?”
“Wasn’t it enough for you to just turn Caleb down? Did you really have to lecture him too? Tear him into tiny shreds to ensure he never comes back?”
“I just wanted to be honest with him.”
“End result: he announced that he would never set foot in my ‘dump of a place’ again, that he’s only been hanging around here these last few months because of you, and that it was my fault he believed he had a chance.
He also said that he hated me, that I could go back to my crappy little life with my dog as my only son, and that the party was over. ”
I can see him struggling with his emotions, fighting them with all his strength.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Abrams. That’s really not what I wanted.”
He slips an index finger under his thin wire-rimmed glasses to discreetly wipe away an unwelcome tear. I’m moved by his distress and obvious loneliness. But his anger doesn’t subside, and he continues to take it out on me.
“You wanted to prove something to yourself, Lancaster, is that it? So, you came and put on a little performance, just like Arcadi taught you! Provoking people, taunting them with what you have and what they don’t, hurting them while hiding behind the excuse of honesty.”
It seems so unfair to me that I raise my voice a little to make sure I’m heard.
“First of all, Caleb was the one who asked me to come over, and it was the two of you who organized that little meeting—without asking if it was something I wanted. Vadim had nothing to do with it. Secondly, if I remember correctly, you’re the one who taught me that.
To be myself, not to pretend. To share everything, show everything. Even the truths that hurt.”
“This is about my son, Lancaster! Not your life journey or your cheap little movie,” he says in a tone dripping with contempt.
“Then take care of your son, instead of trapping me into doing it for you!”
I drop this bombshell on him and run away across the campus. It’s the first time I’ve dared to speak to him like that. And probably the last. I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t get me kicked out of college. But he came looking for answers, didn’t he?
***
I spend the day dreading my next class with Abrams. When I finally see Vadim, I provide him with a summary of my face-off with our professor. He tells me that he’s proud that I stood up for myself. But the moment I walk into that classroom, I’m not nearly as confident anymore.
“I suppose it’s too much to expect you to change your habits after six months: don’t sit down, don’t be quiet, and of course, make sure you delay the start of class,” sighs Mr. Abrams, arms crossed.
“Go ahead, continue… After all, it’s only April.
You still have three months left to ruin your year. ”
When everyone falls silent, the professor returns to his desk, sits down, and clears his throat. His worn velvet jacket suddenly seems huge on his hunched shoulders.
“Now that I have your attention, I’m going to take advantage of it, since it won’t last more than ten minutes considering what babies you are. I have several announcements to make: first, you will present your short films in mid-May.”
“But you said early June, Professor!” Hannah Goldberg whines, entering into a full-blown panic attack.
“The world does not revolve around you all, you know! I have gathered a jury of six people this year: three of your professors, including me, and three renowned directors who once studied here. I know I’m asking the impossible, but try not to embarrass me.”
“Well, thanks for the encouragement!” mutters Andrew Clark under his breath.
“I see your mouth isn’t full for once! Are the junk food vending machines empty today?”
Rather than answer him, Andrew slides down in his chair in an attempt to disappear.
Two rows away from him, Clémentine rummages through her purse and grabs a Snickers, leaving just the very end of the wrapper visible at the top of her bag. She gestures to him that she’s saving it for the end of class, and Andrew’s smile returns.
“Second,” the professor resumes in his weary voice, “the teaching assistant position is now vacant.”
“Me, Professor, me!” Nicki Scott cries out, waving her arm.
“And third: this position is suspended until further notice!”
Every head in the class swivels toward the front row, where I’m sitting. I don’t need to turn around to know that every pair of eyes is fixed on me. No need for a mirror, either, to guess that I’m blushing bright red. Here it is: the hour of my punishment has arrived.
“Forget it, Nicki. You’re not good enough for his son,” Vadim says.
“Would you care to repeat that, Arcadi?” Abrams bristles and starts changing color himself.
“Me?! I didn’t say anything at all! Did any of you hear anything?”
Half the students remain impassive. The other half shake their heads or mutter something in agreement with Vadim.
“Arcadi, I congratulate you on your eternal courage,” the professor deadpans. “Lancaster, I thank you for your commitment and loyalty during the months you spent working as my assistant. Now that the Oscar speeches are over, back to work!”
I don’t really care that I lost my job. It means I’ll have more free time, and I won’t have to put up with Mr. Abrams’s mood swings anymore. But I am having a hard time dealing with the public humiliation and the barely disguised accusation.
A few crumpled wads of paper find their way to my desk: from Vadim, Clem, Andy, and a few others. Words expressing love, jokes, messages of support—just what I need, basically.
At least he only took away my position as his assistant, not my place in his class. My year is saved.
When class is finished, I rush out the door, just in case the professor decides to make me stay behind. But he doesn’t. The bond is broken for good.
My boyfriend and my best friend team up and drag me to the Sunset Café to take my mind off things.
“What did you do to piss off Abrams this time? Tell Auntie Clem everything!”
“He deserved it,” Vadim grumbles immediately.
“Okay, you’d better tell me right now!”
“You only want to hang out with me when things get juicy…”
“True. But that class was so depressing that I give you permission to spill a drink on me, just to liven things up a little,” Clem says, slipping her arm through mine.
Once the three of us are seated at a table, I kick things off so I don’t have to get into the subject of Caleb and his father all over again.
“You know what, Clem… I’m convinced that Andrew Clark is your mystery guy!
One: he’s being unusually nice to me. Two: you give him all your chocolate.
And three: he looks at you with puppy dog eyes. I bet it’s him!”
“Ooh… that makes sense,” Vadim nods, bursting into laughter.
“Definitely not,” she says, her nose in her milkshake.
“Prove it.” I grab her glass and threaten to throw it right in her face. “I’ve done this before, you know.”
“I can confirm that!” Vadim laughs.
“Okay. My guy isn’t a fan of candy bars at all. He’s more into protein shakes. And he’s not a college kid. Oh, whatever… It’s Keith. So, now you know.”
“Keith…?” I repeat, dazed.
“Keith Johnson? My Keith?!” breathes Vadim, who is no longer laughing.
“Oh, come on Arcadi, he doesn’t belong to you! And he has the right to have a life outside of his job!”
“Clem, you’re joking, right? I’m sure she’s joking,” I babble, trying to convince myself.
“Nope, I couldn’t be more serious! He isn’t as stern as he looks, you know. Actually, he’s pretty fun, very sweet, and incredibly skilled at—”
“Aaaah, too much information,” Vadim groans, plugging his ears with his fingers.
“He’s a social worker, not a priest. No need to look so grossed out!”
“No, wait,” I say, regaining my composure. “Are you two really together, or are you just… having a good time?”
“Well, we do have a lot of good times,” she laughs, “but I think it could become serious.”
My best friend’s eyes are sparkling, and that’s what worries me more than anything else. But I’m in no position to object to her relationship, so there’s nothing I can say.
“Alright, I’m gonna stop you right there, D’Aragon. This can’t—it must not—become serious,” Vadim says. “Keith isn’t the guy for you.”
“You’re lecturing me about who gets to date whom?”
“No… Look, I know he can be generous, reassuring, dependable… But he isn’t necessarily the perfect guy you think he is.”
“What are you talking about?” Clémentine demands indignantly. “He works with troubled youths. He’s dedicated his life to it! He spends his time running all over town, even in the middle of the night, to get guys like you out of deep shit!”
“Why are you saying that, Vadim?” I whisper softly. “I thought you admired him, that you owed him a lot…”
“Yes, there was a point in my life when he helped me. And Felix. And I’m grateful to him for that. But… he didn’t become a social worker by chance. He used to be one of those guys, before.”
“So what?” Clem shoots back angrily. “I must be dreaming… Arcadi is judging people based on their past! Are you okay? I’m starting to get the feeling that Edward Lancaster is a bad influence on you!”
That image makes me uncomfortable. And this conversation does, too.
“I’m just saying,” Vadim responds, trying to keep a lid on his emotions, “that Keith is a very smart guy who speaks eloquently, who doesn’t have any trouble influencing people, who is capable of making them do just about anything—and above all, making them believe that it’s for their own good.
I’m telling you this because you’re Alma’s best friend: just be careful, that’s all. I don’t care about the rest!”
“And I’m telling you that I’ve never been so happy in my life! And, Alma,” she whispers to me, loud enough for Vadim to hear, “I reckon you should be wary of him. There’s something suspicious about a guy who changes his mind that quickly!”
I’m completely blindsided. First, I learn that my childhood friend is dating a 30-year-old, ripped bodybuilder who, apparently, has a very high sex drive.
And second, I learn that my boyfriend does not have as much faith as I believed he did in the man who was supposed to be like a surrogate father to him.
I know he finds Keith too strict sometimes, and that he resents him for distancing him from Felix, but I feel like there’s more to it than that.
Like Vadim hasn’t told me everything. And judging by Clémentine’s radiant smile and the way she defended Keith tooth and nail, she really is in love.
How can I possibly argue with that?